


washing machine heart

by pissedofsandwich



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Canon Compliant, Henry has feelings, M/M, post brown john cusack alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22939687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedofsandwich/pseuds/pissedofsandwich
Summary: This time he cannot escape. It's not like the night at the lake, where he can dodge and blame it on mosquitoes, write a stupid note and flee the country. This time Alex keeps him, and he does not let go.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 18
Kudos: 251





	washing machine heart

The way that Alex is rocking into him is so sweet, Henry thinks he's going to die from it.

He doesn't deserve the reverence with which Alex is holding him, the softest mouth curling around his name, spoken like a prayer over his skin, over and over. The intensity of it fills Henry's chest with something heavy and fatal, has him gasping and shivering in a way that has nothing to do with the downpour outside, and everything to do with the way Alex is looking at him, so full of that tender, dangerous love that Henry doesn't dare dream of being deserving of.

This time he cannot escape. It's not like the night at the lake, where he can dodge and blame it on mosquitoes, write a stupid note and flee the country. This time Alex keeps him, and he does not let go.

"Baby," Alex whispers, and it's not fair, Alex knows what it does to Henry when he uses that word, but Henry's defense when it comes to Alex has always been paper-thin. It's not until he opens his eyes that he realizes he's closed them. "That's it," Alex murmurs, "look at me."

The tips of Alex's fingers tip his chin up, keeping him locked onto Alex's eyes—god, and it's so Alex, to not even let Henry have the luxury of looking away. Henry doesn't know if Alex is trying to say, _you look at me while you tell me to leave_ , or _look at me and try to tell me how to leave._ Henry is incapable of accomplishing either of them. Alex has always been demanding in the way that he attracts attention, the only sun that Henry's going to orbit around, and he didn't even know it. _God_. The heaviness in Henry's chest grows, and he chokes on it, on the feelings and the surefire roll of Alex's hips, slow and deep. He thinks he can feel it all the way up to his throat, a sensation like he has water in his lungs, drowning in the sea of this unbridled, dripping affection. Drowning in Alex.

 _I fucking love you._ Like Henry hasn't been silently screaming it at him this whole time. This self-centered asshole, who kisses the corner of his mouth and swipes his sweat-damp hair out of his eyes, who takes Henry's hand and laces their fingers together, even as Henry's trying to take it away, mouths at the tear tracks on the plane of his face, whispering, "Let me have this. Please, let me have this."

Alex doesn't know what he's asking of Henry, what Henry would risk just to give him everything he could give, what he's going to unleash if Henry is allowed even a sliver of loving Alex in the open.

"I can't," Henry says, breaking his heart with it, but Alex just shakes his head—that stubbornness, Christ, the fucking unwillingness to accept things the way that they are—and scoops one hand under him, pulling him closer so his face is buried in the crook of Henry's neck, the stuttering of his breath in Henry's ear, a most gorgeous sound. Their joined hands are on the other side of his head, and Alex presses it down on the mattress, and Henry realizes when wetness falls on his neck that Alex is crying too.

"Please," Alex sobs.

Henry turns his face away, into the veins in Alex's wrist, taking Alex's desperate thrusts, arching back into him. He wants to take everything that Alex is willing to give him and more. So badly, he wants to say _yes_ , _be with me, be with me_ , but he bites down on it, just like he bites on the feelings that threaten to creep out of his throat, all the sadness and anger and frustration at the world, at Gran's cold stares, at Philip's fucking stupid obsession with legacy, at the way kind, wicked-eyed Beatrice is suppressed, her light taken away from her, just like him, at his mother's indifferent grief.

At Alex, for irreversibly loving him, for filling him up so full with all the emotions he thought he'd never feel, at Alex, for running after him, for laying him bare and vulnerable and saying—

And _saying_ —

"I love you," Alex says. "All of you."

And Henry is shaken apart, all his pieces breaking and unbreaking and rearranged to make space for this beautiful, endearing boy, coming untouched to the sound of Alex moaning his name.

Alex embraces him through it, lets the shocks weave over him, holds him close even as his own cock's getting softer on his stomach, his come getting on Alex, Alex's come in him.

In the aftermath, they just stare at each other, chests heaving, a galaxy's worth of unspoken truths in the air between them. Words turn to dust in Henry's throat, and he swallows. Gingerly, Alex moves to pull out, and Henry must've lost his mind because he puts his hands on Alex's back, keeping from slipping out, and says, "Stay."

Alex looks at him like he's learning about Henry all over again. Henry bites his lip, worried he's just given himself away.

But Alex says, "Okay." Nods, licks his lips. Again, "Okay."

He gathers Henry into his arms, collapsing on him, and Henry doesn't care if Alex's crushing him, if the come's drying on his stomach. He presses his nose against Alex's jaw and inhales, and feels his scent filling up his lungs, lapping away at the water. Slowly, the heaviness leaves him.

Before, it’s easy trying to hide his feelings for Alex. Before, he didn’t know the way Alex tastes, the way his body goes slack and boneless after he comes, the gentle way he nuzzles Henry’s nose with his. This is why he ran away: if he lets himself hear Alex say those words at the lake, that night, he wouldn’t be able to walk away. He’d been so stupid, thinking he could ever feel enough with just a taste of Alex and nothing more, but the truth is—he’ll never survive letting Alex go. Regardless of whether or not he’s allowed, losing Alex, after having him like this, will destroy him.

Henry holds on.

Sometime in the night, they drift off and wake up before dawn. It's an intoxicating, obscene feeling, to wake up to hardness already inside him. Alex fucks him again as his own cock's beginning to wake up, this time so hot and full right from the start, flipping Henry on his hands and knees and scraping his forehead on the sheets, rough and wanting, nothing like the sweetness of the night before, but just as sure, desperate.

Henry lets Alex sleep and cleans himself up, after, doesn't quite recognize the person he's staring at in the mirror. He doesn't look brave yet, but he remembers the way it feels to take all of Alex and hear him say _I love you_ into his skin, and thinks, _I'm slowly working towards it._

Invincible. It's how Henry wants to feel, throwing caution away to the wind and letting the world know that Alex is his, as much as he is Alex's. He tries to imagine it, and is too scared of it never happening that he stops, mid-daydream. He wants Alex so _badly_ that his head spins with it, but the idea of telling Philip, telling the fucking _Queen_ makes panic rise in his chest so quickly, and he has to grip the sink just to steady himself.

He tears his eyes from the mirror and, ignoring the soreness of his ass, goes for a run.

**Author's Note:**

> god i want to read an entire book in henry's pov. sweet lil gay prince with so much feelings. title is from mitski, because that song is so henry.
> 
> comments, criticisms, kudos make my day <3


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